


/hydrophobia

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: Bondage, Clothed Cumming, Dacryphilia, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Omorashi, POV First Person, Tyler is mean, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Tyler snorts at me."I'm not an idiot. You're stayin' there."





	/hydrophobia

There's nothing like the feeling of dread. Waiting for something bad to happen. A pit in your stomach, a feeling so heavy that it holds you down, like you have iron weights sewn into your skin. That's how I felt. Cold and nervous, hands tied behind my back on a shitty rolling chair, waiting for one big boom. No, more than one big boom, it had to be at least six. And Tyler's leaning on the cold, wide pane of glass that was a wall and a window all at once. 

"Gonna get real interesting now."

Trust me when I say things can always get worse.

I hadn't drank much that day, I'd been running around the whole time. Mostly I was swallowing blood. I hadn't really taken care of myself at all, in fact, I was insanely hungry and tired and probably smelled really bad, like sweat. I didn't say anything about it though, I didn't want Tyler to kneel down and hand-feed me like I was a bird. Probably making a huge mess on purpose, and commenting on how bad I am at eating. Even though he knew, no doubt about it. He liked to make me ask for things. Some kind of weird power trip thing, he liked making me beg him for stuff even if he knew I needed it. I always did hate asking for stuff, and I can guarantee he knew that, because he couldn't stop taking advantage of it.

I didn't watch his expression when I felt it, but no doubt he was smiling.

This pain hit, like someone stuck a needle in me. I'm a big coffee person, so I'd recognize it anywhere; I had to take a piss. I gave Tyler maybe a few seconds to comment on it, but he didn't.

"Tyler." My voice felt choked. God, I'd been yelling all day. "Tyler!"

"Yeah?" He turned. 

"Can you lemme out, I gotta use the bathroom." I tried to make it sound as urgent as possible, though at that very moment it wasn't a huge deal. I'd rate it maybe a 6 out of 10 on the scale of huge deals. He looked like he was thinking about it, and I couldn't help feeling like I was in elementary school again. "I'd like to do it this year, please." Tyler snorts at me.

"I'm not an idiot. You're stayin' there."

I am Jack's curse at god himself. 

"We're the same person, Tyler, you know I have to."

"Yeah, but a bathroom could be a method of escape." He was lighting a cigarette.

"Look how high up we are. What am I gonna do, crawl through the fucking toilet?"

"Maybe." A soft, breathy laugh came from him. It sounded nice. Better than my laugh, anyway. People always think or assume I'm condescending them when I laugh. I guess that's just how I look, but I wish I didn't.

"Fine." I said once, then again, a bit louder. "Fine!" It was not remotely fine, nothing was fine, but whatever. It wasn't like I was preparing to explode or something. I deeply hoped it wouldn't get to that point. Tyler was cracking open a can of beer with his teeth, like he always did. I tried not to think about the liquid-gulping noises he was making, but the fact that it crossed my mind at all was enough to make him start walking towards me with that look in his eyes.

"Have some."

God, I was thirsty. I shook my head.

"No thanks."

"Come on, what kind of party is it if only one of us is drunk?"

"This isn't funny, it's illegal and I don't want this, please just stop already."

"Oh my  _god_ , again with that shit." He rolled his eyes, walking away and finishing off the remainder of the beer before throwing the can on the ground, crushing it under his shoe. "You don't know what you want. You're a thirty-year-old  _boy_." I didn't wanna look at him. I couldn't fucking stand the sight of Tyler Durden anymore. The anxiety choked my stomach like a leather belt. I didn't feel very well at all. 

Most of the time, Tyler was silent. He walked back and forth with fists hiding in his pockets. He was wandering. He was looking out the window, and then back, and down the flights of stairs, and back, and to the window, the stairs, the elevator, the wall, me, the goddamn window again. Time was passing. How long had it been? Ten minutes? An hour? A week? I was just in the center of the storm, the eye of the tornado. Safe, but afraid. Painted with sweat, stuck to the chair, I felt helpless again. Just when I felt like I was getting control of my life, too. I was proud to hit bottom. I was fucking proud. Pride was all I had.

A stabbing pain ran from my abdomen. I doubled over. I hadn't peed since the evening prior and it hurt. Tyler noticed, looking up from a magazine he'd brought with him. We were just barely locking gazes as he walked over.

"Tyler," I swallowed. "I really gotta, I gotta use the bathroom."

"Jesus Christ, man, you're thirty. I'm sure you can hold it for the next hour."

"The-" My throat tightened. I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe. "The next hour?"

"That's when the bombs go off."

"For fuck's sake, I'm not gonna go anywhere. You can even watch to make sure. You can fucking stand there and watch me--"

"What? That's gross." He laughed at me, with one hand near his mouth. "I'm not gonna stand there and watch you piss. Though I'm sure you'd be into that."

"I really wouldn't." 

"Listen. You're gonna have a beer, you're gonna sit there, and you're gonna fucking enjoy yourself while we re-establish the whole world. That's how it's gonna be." At least it took my mind off of how hungry I was. What I wouldn't have given for one of those powdered jelly donuts Bob always used to carry with him. "If it was that bad, you'd just do it here."

"Wh- no!" That Tyler always had a way of catching me off-guard. 

"Then it's settled! Now shut up." He was opening another beer can. "It's time for a toast between us men." The lip of the can sat on my own, one metal and the other flesh, a kiss between man and product.  I turned my head away and he grabbed it with those hands of his. They were big. Everything about him was big. "God damnit, can you quit being such a buzzkill for once in your life? Sorry you can't always be sleeping in your micro-penis condo and ordering fucking furniture."

"Have you been tuned out of this entire conversation."

"No, but we're the same person, so if I want booze, you want booze."

"I'll take it after I've used the bathroom."

"Uuuuggh!" He really did have trouble getting my mouth open. I'm proud of how much trouble I gave him. The beer made this awful splashing sound. I tried not to think of waterfalls and oceans, bladder throbbing like a bruise. Eventually I gave up and swallowed about half of it. The rest sank into my shirt and underwear. It felt good to drink something, at least until it landed in my stomach. Then it actually felt really, really bad. I kicked one leg over the other.

"Tyler, you're really not gonna like what happens if you don't--"

"You gonna fight me? Your hands are tied, dipshit. Fucking Christ, you spilled most of that. Do you enjoy being wasteful?"

"I'm not fucking kidding. I promise I won't go anywhere. Please."

He knelt to my height, and looked me up and down. I tried to appear as pathetic as possible. I hoped he would take pity on me for just this moment, and I didn't need it any longer than that. No doubt he saw through it. He was me, so he didn't need to see through me to know the truth.

"How's it feel?"

"What? It feels bad. Come on."

A palm was rested on my lower abdomen, and I could feel my guts spasming underneath. Legs clenched together. "Tyler, don't put your hand there--"

"How's that feel, then?"

"It hurts! It fucking hurts!" My voice broke, I was this close to crying. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I dunno, ask yourself that question." Laughter, again. "When was the last time you used the John."

"Last night." I didn't want to argue too much. For some goddamn reason I was hoping he might let me go if I cooperated. It was hitting me all at once, a full day of ignoring my own needs and suddenly I was crumbling into dust on the concrete floor. "It- it was yesterday evening, right before I called Marla. Probably like, I don't know... eight at night? I haven't eaten since yesterday, either, if you stop this now we can, I don't know, fucking go get Krispy Kreme or something?"

"Forty-five minutes. Here, lemme help." He pressed a hand over my crotch. Normally I'd have complained, but if my own hands were untied, they'd both have been between my legs. I closed my thighs around his fingers. "There. That's a good boy. Did you know it's harder to pee with a boner?" And suddenly it hit me.

Like a heated dog, I rutted my crotch into Tyler's palm. I tried to think of Marla, but I couldn't. It was too definitely Tyler's breathing and touching and presence. Desperation was hitting me over and over in waves. "I didn't know you liked me that much." I wanted to say something about how  _it's nothing like that_ , but I didn't want to waste time with words. Just when I felt the blood rushing, he tugged his hand away, and I made this whine that I wish hadn't come from my mouth. "I never said you could do that."

"Please." I could feel that glass-ball-in-throat feeling you get when you're about to cry. "Tyler, please." He smirked, watching me try and force friction from the office chair I was tied to. I probably looked real stupid. Wriggling and rubbing my stupid ass into the torn fake leather. He licked his thumb and pressed down just below my belly button.

"How's it feel?" I squealed, all the fluid trying to force its way out of me. 

"It, it, it burns! Stop!" Howl howl whine whine. 

"You just fuckin' humped into my fingers... I wish I had a picture for that moment." A sentimental smile crossed his lips. A gaze filled with such love. "Pssh-pssh-pssh. That's what a running faucet sounds like." My eyes squeezed shut almost unintentionally, teeth gritted. "It's also the sound of you pissing on the floor."

"I can't, I can't..." Fresh tears were crossing my face. Wet. The feeling of moving water. I wanted to suck it back. "I need to..."

He pushed with his whole hand. I couldn't take it.

I felt a little come out and a big, surprised breath went through my teeth. Then a little more. A steady drip, the broken tap on a hamster bottle. Even in the low light, I knew there was a stain growing. Huffy little weeps were coming out of me as it all just came out of me. The sound of dripping on the floor stabbed my heart. Lip trembled, legs shook. My thighs and butt had gotten all warm, and my underwear clung to my skin like wet paper. I was open-mouth-crying. The pathetic kind.

As I came apart, Tyler was staring at me with adoration, the way one would a family pet. 

"You really did have to go, huh."

"Yes!" I was angry and humiliated all at once. "Yes! Fuck you, yes I did!"

"Well I'm sorry. Let me pay you back." He flattened his hand to my crotch again. When did I get so hard? He was rubbing the wet fabric against my dick, as it got colder and clammier. I didn't do anything but cry, and quickly shot my second contribution into the saturated cloth with a moan that couldn't have belonged to me. Then, suddenly, he untied my hands.

"Why now?" The rage was unreal. Were I not a sobbing, chest-cramping, leg-shaking mess, I'd have choked him out. "Why did you wait until now?"

"Well, you're not gonna go anywhere lookin' like that." He ruffled my hair. I'd seen him touch Angel Face like that. I almost felt vindicated for half a second. "Lemme go find you some food, pissbaby, you just wait right there."

And I did.


End file.
